


Feel You're Sinking

by sleapyGazelle



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Crushes, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nothing serious, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Sickfic, VLD Fanfiction Remix 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 05:59:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12647538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleapyGazelle/pseuds/sleapyGazelle
Summary: Lance hates being sick. But his illness has the unexpected side effect of bringing out a really nice side of Keith.





	1. Lance

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sweeter Than Pumpkin Pie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8265658) by [konekat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/konekat/pseuds/konekat). 



> Kat, your fic was just too cute and enjoyable. Your style is so readable too! I don't know if you have plans to continue it, but reading it was a great time :D I can only hope I've done some justice to your concept. I wanted to write a role swap, with Lance being the one to get sick. But I realized it wouldn't work as a college AU because Lance's family would just come get him if he got sick LOL, which is why I wrote it as canonverse. I hope you like it~

Alarms blared and urgent footsteps sounded throughout the castle; but Lance barely registered the noises. The racket of his own pounding head was deafening. Vaguely aware that he was needed out there, he tried to sit up in bed. That proved to be a really bad idea because the pounding got so much worse, he nearly passed out. As it was, he lay back, formed the coherent thought that he was sick, and fell back asleep.

* * *

_"Lance!" ___

__The voice and the accompanying knocking was muffled by the door; whoever it was must've been calling out to him for a while before he woke._ _

__Lance wanted to say 'Come in,' and part of him thought he said it. But he was pretty out of it, so it was quite possible that he hadn't spoken at all before drifting to sleep yet again. The latter was more likely because when he next came to, he was being violently shaken by a very concerned-looking Keith._ _

__Lance bolted upright and came within an inch of Keith's face—his violet eyes, his silken bangs.... If Lance hadn't felt like barfing, he could've appreciated the sight more fully. "What the hell," he murmured. He was going for an accusing tone, but with his scratchy voice, it came out more as an angry whisper. Oh well. As long as the anger at being shaken awake was conveyed._ _

__Keith seemed to realize his proximity and leaned back, but he remained seated on the edge of the bed. "You didn't report for the drill and weren't answering when I knocked, so I was worried. You okay?"_ _

__"Sick," Lance managed, settling his head onto the one remaining cool corner of his pillow._ _

__"Oh. I thought...."_ _

__"Hmm?" Lance wondered what Keith had been thinking to jerk him awake as if Zarkon were here._ _

__"I don't know, I thought you were... dying or something."_ _

__Keith came to check on him? That was actually really sweet, that he cared. "It sure feels like I'm dying, but it's just a cold. I probably just need to sleep it off."_ _

__"You can't be out of commission, Lance. We need you. _Voltron_ needs you. I'll go ask Coran or Allura if a healing pod can fix you up. Or if they have medicine or something. I'll be back in a bit." _ _

__The moment Keith got up and left, Lance missed his weight on the bed. It wasn't until the door hissed shut that he even realized Keith had draped the blanket around him more securely. Lance was sick, but what was wrong with Keith? Why was he being so...nice?_ _


	2. Keith

This was...bad. Lance was apparently too sick to leave his bed. The team was lucky that they hadn't had to fight any major battles in the past couple of days. But Keith knew it would be foolish to wait for enemies to find them while they were one man down. 

Keith flitted around the castle until he found Coran and Allura. He told them about Lance and asked what could be done. Because surely, in a castle this advanced, _surely_ there was medicine or a healing pod setting or _something_ designed to rid a body of a virus.

* * *

Turns out there was not. You just had to wait it out until your body fought off the virus. What was this, the twenty-first century? Keith shook his head in irritation as he led Lance back to his room after the tests the Alteans had done on him. 

“I can't believe I'm too contagious to be around anyone,” Lance grumbled. 

“It'll wear off soon.” Keith tried for a comforting tone. “Do you feel any better yet?”

“A little. Enough to have been walking around. But I feel tired again.”

Keith nodded, and when they got to Lance’s room, he helped Lance into bed. “Well scoot over.” 

Lance looked at him blankly, and Keith felt warmth rising to his face. All Keith wanted was to keep this sick asshole company while he recovered. His stupid crush on the guy had nothing to do with it. Or so he told himself. But he hadn't realized until just now that Lance may not welcome his company. 

Lance saved Keith from a thought spiral by finally speaking. “Dude, I'm sick. And _contagious_. You were there when Allura told me!”

Keith shrugged. “I've never gotten sick in my entire life. I always thought it was kinda weird, but now it makes sense.”

“Your Galra genes?”

Keith shrugged again, trying to appear more nonchalant than he felt about being part alien. “Must be.”

Lance looked like he wanted to say something but didn't know what. 

“So uh, did you want some company or….?” Keith trailed off. 

Lance colored and shifted to make room on the bed. “Yeah, that'd be great!” 

Keith got under the covers and only then did it occur to him that this may have been a bad idea. The entire right side of his body was now pressed up against Lance as the two of them lay in the bed meant for one. This was fine, Keith assured himself. 

“Do you wanna watch something?” Lance asked, pulling out a tablet from beside his bed. 

“What is there to watch?” wondered Keith, who had never realized space Netflix might be a thing. 

Lance grinned deviously, though the effect was somewhat dulled by a bout of hacking coughs that shook his whole body. 

Keith awkwardly rubbed his back as if that would help somehow. 

“A while ago Coran showed me some movies and a series that we can stream,” Lance wheezed. “They're in Altean so I never watched, but what else is there to do?”

“Sure,” Keith agreed, happy to spend time with Lance in whatever way that entailed. He was a basic man. “Did Coran say what the movies were about?”

“Um, they're romance,” Lance revealed, not meeting Keith's eyes. “I'm leaning toward the series though.”

That was probably for the best; Keith wasn't sure he could handle watching romantic movies with Lance, _in his bed_ least of all. “What's the series?”

“It's like space Project Runway.”

Keith snorted. “You and fashion?”

Lance colored again, this time from indignation. “Shut up, you have a mullet!”

Keith rolled his eyes. “At least my hairstyle has a name. What even is your hair?”

“Um, stylish.” 

Keith stifled his laughter. “Whatever. Let's just watch. You're sick; don't waste your energy on yelling.”

“I'm not yelling…. But thanks.” Lance looked away again, and pulled up the title on the screen in his lap. 

Somewhere, in the midst of questionably colored fur and fabric that sparkled like water, the two of them fell asleep without meaning to, leaning against each other.


	3. Lance

Lance awoke with a kink in his neck and a frog in his throat. He was sweaty—his fever must've broken while he slept. He wanted to groan, but he knew it wouldn't be worth the effort. He turned his head to the side and came face to face with Keith's drooling, sleeping head. If his body felt any less heavy, he would've jumped right out of bed. As it were, he shifted closer to the wall to gaze at his crush. Keith looked so...peaceful when he slept. His brow was unfurrowed, there was no pout or irritation in his expression. Lance found himself wishing Keith would sleep on so Lance could keep watching him. This was bad, wasn't it.

Lance's heart must've beat too loudly or something, because suddenly Keith was stirring and cracking open an eye. Keith blinked once, twice, before bolting upright in bed. Lance reached out a hand and caught him around the waist before he could fall right onto the floor.

Keith steadied himself and pulled the blanket off, rubbing a hand over his face and brushing back his hair. "Shit, I didn't even realize when we fell asleep."

"Same." Lance managed his first word of the day. Man, his throat hurt like hell.

"Do you remember the last thing we watched?"

Lance racked his brain. "Eh, we'll figure it out later."

Keith nodded. "How are you feeling?"

Other than his still recovering, pining heart? "Better than yesterday," he said hoarsely.

Keith brushed Lance's sweaty bangs off his forehead. And before Lance could fully appreciate the sensation of Keith's fingers on his skin, Keith leaned forward and kissed his forehead.

Keith...kissed him.

Realization seemed to hit Keith moments after it hit Lance. He leaned back, looking extremely uncomfortable. “I'm sorry, it's an old thing my dad used to do when waking me up; I wasn't even thinking about it, I'm really sorry!”

“It's cool bro,” Lance said, proud when his voice remained steady. It wasn't _cool_?! How could it be when his crush had just given him a tender forehead kiss then played it off like it was no big deal? 

“Your fever seems down,” Keith said, getting out of bed. “But you need to keep up your strength.”

Lance agreed and scooted to the edge of the bed to get up when Keith’s voice stopped him. 

“You should rest though. I'll bring you food here.” 

As appealing as breakfast in bed with Keith sounded, Lance shook his head. “Nah, I'll just feel worse cooped up here.” 

Keith looked skeptical but helped Lance out of bed. 

“I can get up myself, Mullethead.” The bickering was just instinct at this point, a reflex of some sort. 

“Yeah okay; you're teetering, fool.” 

“I am perfectly still,” Lance insisted. “You and the room are shaking. Must be turbulence.”

“ _There's no turbulence in spa—_ You know what? Let's just get you to the kitchen.” One hand on Lance’s shoulder, Keith reached behind Lance and picked the blanket up off the bed. He wrapped it around Lance’s shoulders, making sure it was tucked securely before leading the way out of the room. 

Lance noticed how empty and quiet the corridors were and figured his contagion must be keeping everyone well enough away. He glanced at Keith with slight worry; would Galra blood really protect his human side from this virus? 

The kitchen was empty too, and Lance sat down at the table. The mice skittered and approached at his arrival, waiting by his hands to be fed from his spoon. 

Keith tubed out two bowls of food goo and carried them to the table, sitting down in his usual seat next to Lance. 

Usually not too picky of an eater—at least not in space—Lance felt ready to retch at the smell of the goo. He really hated being sick. 

Keith noticed Lance’s grimace. “What's wrong?”

“I don't have an appetite.”

Keith's face turned contemplative, and Lance gazed fondly at the expression. “I know,” Keith announced, getting up to rummage in the cabinets. “I saw Hunk put it…. Here!” He turned around and walked back to Lance triumphantly with a questionable-looking bottle of blue sauce in one hand. 

“What is that?”

“Hot sauce!”

Lance stared blankly. Then, “It’s blue,” he observed. 

Keith shrugged. “It's something new he made from some plants he picked up on Warugal.” 

Lance eyed the bottle with suspicion. 

“Stop looking like that! Hunk made it.”

“And I would never not trust Hunk’s cooking. But he has never fed me _that_ , and I can't help but think there's a reason why.”

The corners of Keith's mouth lifted teasingly. “Maybe he thought you couldn't take the heat.”

Lance scoffed, but felt a smirk growing on his own face in response. “If anyone can't take the heat, it's you.”

“Wanna bet?” 

“You're on!”

* * *

One regrettable bowl of spicy food goo later, Lance felt like puking. And he hadn't even won the bet. Keith was freaking invincible; it wasn't fair. 

While Lance sat moping on his chair, Keith got up and started rummaging in the cabinets again. 

Lance wanted to stay miffed a while longer, but his curiosity got the better of him. He turned to watch Keith and finally asked, “Now what're you doing?”

“Space salt,” he muttered, searching. Finding the little bottle, he filled a cup with water and poured some of the salt into it, stirring until it dissolved. He brought it over to Lance. 

“That's salt? The hot sauce was one thing but you're bugging out if you think I'm gonna drink—”

“You don't drink it!” Keith cut in, horrified. “You gargle with it. How do you not know this? What did your parents give you back home when you got sick?”

“Um, _medicine_? What kind of struggle remedy?”

“Well we _are_ in space.” 

Lance stared at the murky, swirling hot salt water in the cup. “Fair enough.” He picked up the cup and stood, still wrapped in his blanket. He made his way to the sink and took a sip. It tasted awful, but he pulled through, gargling for a second before spitting it out again. On his next go he took a larger gulp and held it for a bit longer. Keith stood by watching him to make sure he finished the cup. By the time he was done, all the up-and-down movement of his head caught up with him, and he felt like puking again. But when he gulped he realized his throat was already feeling less inflamed. He watched Keith put away the dishes with a small smile, wondering where the loner had picked up these little tidbits. Catching himself looking, he wiped the smile off his face and turned away before Keith could see.


	4. Keith

Keith gathered his towel and toiletries, trying not to think about how cute Lance looked as a blanket burrito—which was cuter than Keith would admit to himself. He had sent Lance ahead to shower and was making his way there himself to wash up. As he approached the stalls, Keith's steps slowed to a stop. 

“If you feel you’re sinking, I will jump right over into cold, cold water for you.”

Lance was singing to himself in the shower; and even through the stuffed sinuses and congested chest, Keith could tell he had the voice of an angel. What was Keith supposed to do with this information? His heart seemed to have the idea that beating really fast was an appropriate response. Steeling himself against the dulcet tones of the blue-cum-red paladin, Keith went in and claimed the stall next to Lance’s. 

Lance’s voice cut off mid croon when he became aware of Keith's presence. He tried clearing his throat, which turned into a bout of coughing. 

Keith lathered on soap while he waited for Lance to get his breath back. “Um, I didn't know you could sing.”

“Just when I'm alone or around family,” Lance explained. “Though my family would usually ask me to shut up,” he chuckled. “My voice is still pretty shot, but I'm feeling better after the gargling.”

Why would anyone ask him to shut up when he was singing? When he was talking, yes; _that_ Keith understood. But his singing voice was beautiful. “You can keep going,” he suggested. 

“What?”

“Don't mind me. Just, uh, just continue singing.” 

“Oh. Um, okay.”

For a moment, Keith wasn't sure if Lance would take him up on the offer. But then slowly but surely his voice picked up again. Keith smiled to himself as he listened. Lance was just full of surprises.

* * *

After their shower, the two of them retired to the lounge, a corner of which was dedicated to Pidge’s video game setup. Keith wordlessly set down a blanket and some cushions for them to sit on; and Lance was equally silent, settling into the warmth. 

The room was fairly dark, and there was something about the atmosphere that set Keith on edge, as if something were about to happen. He ignored the feeling rather than consider the possibility that sitting this close to Lance might have something to do with it. 

“Bet I can beat you!” Lance shook the game controller in one hand while he wiggled his eyebrows. 

Keith rolled his eyes. “You're on!”

The next few hours went by with Keith beating Lance over and over, and Lance raising the stakes each time. When Lance called “best of seven,” Keith set down his controller. 

“I don't know man,” he said in a teasing tone. “I'm kind of bored of kicking your ass. It's getting repetitive.”

Lance threw down his own controller with a squawk and whirled on Keith. 

Holding back laughter, Keith interrupted before Lance could work himself up to a temper. “How about we watch more of that space fashion thing?”

“Project Runway,” Lance said, pleasantly surprised. “You _did_ like it!”

“Not for itself,” Keith clarified. “But it was fun watching with you.”

“Oh.”

Even in the dim light, Keith could make out the slight blush dusting Lance’s cheeks, and he chided himself for being so obvious. “I'll go get your tablet,” he suggested. 

“It's on your side of the bed,” Lance called out as Keith walked out the door. 

_His side_ of the bed. Keith had a side in Lance’s b— No. Nope, not going down that train of thought. Keith walked with purpose into Lance's room, grabbed the tablet and went back to the lounge. When he got there, Lance reached out a hand for the tablet, but Keith walked up to the game console. "I wonder if there's a way to hook it up to the big screen," he wondered out loud, getting down on his hands and knees, and bending to get a look at the various wire connections. He heard an intake of breath and a clearing throat from behind him, before Lance spoke,

"You sure you're the right person to figure that out, Samurai?"

"Oh shut up." Keith fiddled with the wires hooking up the game. "I may not be Pidge, but I'm not a hermit."

"You sure about that?" drawled Lance teasingly. "You _did_ used to live in a shack in the desert."

Before Keith could smack Lance with a comeback, a soothing robotic voice—a lot like the one that had scanned them when they first stepped foot in the castle on Arus—announced from the tablet, "Pairing."

Keith and Lance exchanged a look. 

"Connected," announced the voice, and the tablet's home screen was suddenly projected on the game monitor. 

"Nice," admitted Lance. 

Feeling smug, Keith scooted back next to Lance and the two settled in to watch. 

Lance was vocal, as per his norm, for the first few episodes, but he gradually got quieter. Just as a particularly intense elimination round rolled around, Keith felt a weight drop onto his shoulder. He turned to see Lance out cold, breathing even, sound asleep against him. _Oh boy oh boyohboyohboyoh_ Keith stiffened from head to toe with sudden awareness of every point at which their bodies touched. He didn't want to wake Lance, wanted to watch him like this forever. His expression was so still and vulnerable. His hair looked so _soft_ ; Keith wanted to run his hands through it. That was dumb; why would he do that. Still, his hand came up, as if with a will of its own, fingers reaching toward Lance's head. _Just one touch,_ he promised himself. 

His fingers worked through the brown strands, softer even than he'd expected. Keith ran his hand through, and Lance let out a tiny contented sound from his shoulder. _Uh oh._ Keith froze, glanced down. Lance was still asleep. Letting out the breath he'd been holding, Keith allowed himself to resume his ministrations. He was lightly massaging Lance's scalp at this point, and from the deep breathing and occasional soft moan slipping out of Lance's throat, it felt good. Keith told himself that was why he didn't pull away: because Lance was sick and needed all the comfort he could get. Lying to himself was getting harder the longer they stayed pressed against each other like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how long a typical jrpg runs, so if the 'best of seven' thing is nonsensical, please replace that in your head with something that makes more sense ;D


	5. Lance

Lance had a sense of déjà vu when he woke with a kink in his neck. At least this time there was no frog. He realized he wasn’t in his bed and sat up on the blanket, trying to remember how he’d ended up there. Images from last night came flooding back to him: playing the RPG with Keith, actually having a really good time, accidentally ogling Keith's ass when he bent to fiddle with the wires of the screen, watching space reality shows, _falling asleep on Keith_. Holy shit. Lance wanted to kick himself. Of all the embarrassing things he could've done around Keith, he'd fallen asleep—shortly after _breakfast_ —when the guy was actually trying to spend time with him. Needing reassurance that Keith hadn't washed his hands of him entirely, Lance went looking for his rival. Once again, the silence of the castle unnerved him, making him aware of the size of the place. How contagious was he that everyone was avoiding him so thoroughly?

He found Keith, unsurprisingly, on the training deck, dual-wielding his bayard and Marmora blade against a formidable level-15 training bot. Riveted, Lance stood still and watched for a moment before his traitorous lungs let loose a cough. 

“End training sequence.” Keith retracted his bayard and sheathed his knife. “You're awake,” he noted, approaching Lance. “How do you feel?”

“Groggy but better,” Lance admitted. “Sorry I fell asleep. That was kinda lame.”

“Lance, you're sick. Sleep is a good thing.”

“How long was I out,” asked Lance. “Where is everyone?”

“Not that long,” replied Keith. “A couple of hours maybe? Shiro and Allura are out bonding with their lions. Coran, Pidge, and Hunk are working on castle maintenance.”

“Hey, maybe I can try some bonding exercises with Red too!” Lance brightened at the thought. 

“ _You're sick, Lance!_ ” Keith sounded like he was at the end of his patience. “Just focus on getting better. Red isn't going anywhere.”

Lance groaned. He recognized the rationality in Keith's words; he just hated feeling useless with this high-stake war raging around them. 

“Speaking of which,” continued Keith, “you should be in bed.”

“I just woke up,” Lance exclaimed. “Staying cooped up is probably making me sicker.”

“That's not how it works,” Keith countered, taking Lance’s elbow and guiding him out of the room. 

Lance grumbled some more but went with him. How could he not with Keith leading him like this? They stopped by the lounge to pick up Lance’s blanket. The next stop was Lance’s room, and Keith didn't leave him alone until he was settled snugly in bed again, sitting up and leaning grumpily against the headboard. 

“You'll thank me once you're better,” Keith promised. 

“I doubt that, Mullethead.” But there was no malice in his tone. 

Keith chuckled and squeezed into bed next to Lance. 

The gesture filled Lance’s chest with a warmth that had nothing to do with the blanket tucked around him. He turned his head to face Keith and asked, “So were you training the whole time I was asleep?” 

"Not the whole time. Kolivan called earlier, so I was talking to him. Your name came up too, actually." 

"Oh?" What interest could the Blade of Marmora have in the decidedly _non-_ -Galra-blooded Lance? 

"I mentioned how you're sick and out of commission for a while so I've been spending time with you." Keith's eyes got shifty as he continued. "When I told him how you're kind of quarantined, he suggested that, uh, you could come with us on a mission or two. Nothing major," he added hastily. "Some scouting stuff, just until you're better. Since, you know, you're not contagious to us. Plus you've been feeling cooped up."

Keith still wasn't meeting Lance's eyes, and Lance's heart was beating erratically. He was touched and anxious and happy all at the same time. "Keith, I don't know what to say...."

"There's no pressure to accept," Keith added. "Just if you want." 

Lance wanted to reach out and take Keith's hand, but he knew he should explain himself in words. "I really _really_ appreciate you and Kolivan for thinking of me, and I _am_ already feeling a bit stifled being stuck here. But the Blade isn't where I belong. It's a part of your identity, and you should be allowed to have that to yourself." 

Keith started to protest, but Lance kept going,

"The joint missions we've done with the Marmorites are one thing, but I don't know if.... I just wouldn't feel at home, Keith. I do genuinely appreciate the offer though." 

Keith nodded. "It's cool," he assured. "I'll just let Kolivan know I'm not coming on this one." He got out of bed. "I'll be right back." 

Lance watched him go, mind running into a frenzy. If he had understood correctly, Keith wasn't going to go either because Lance wasn't going. Keith was foregoing a Marmora mission to stay with Lance while he recovered. _Keith was choosing to spend time with Lance over his work with the Blade._ Part of him warned against reading too much into it, but the rest of him definitely was reading into it. The past day and a half with Keith—apart from Lance's sickness—had been really _nice_ , had been something he could really get used to. 

When Keith got back to just sit with him in bed and talk, Lance couldn't help the comfort that filled him at the proximity, the _intimacy_ of it all. He could _definitely_ get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> Come shout at me about klance on tumblr: [writing blog](https://sleapywolfwrites.tumblr.com/) | [vld sideblog](https://sir-klancelot.tumblr.com/)


End file.
